Harry the Chestnut
by KMM2
Summary: Harry Potter is a chestnut. An abnormally powerful one, but still just a chestnut. Or so he thinks. But now he's been kidnapped and told that there's a prophecy about him! Warning: Crack!


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I also don't own the basic plot for this story. It is based on my friend Sarah Henderson's short story "Bob the Chestnut".**

**By the way, this isn't to be taken seriously. I'm not sure if it is considered crack, as I've read crack stories a lot crazier/weirder than this, but it is sort of crack.**

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"Harry!" a voice whispers. But that's impossible. How could anyone have gotten into his throne room? It's so heavily guarded even Harry couldn't get out if he wanted.

A royal guard rushes up and kneels before him. "My Lord Chestnut," he says, "a peasant has arrived, requesting that you awaken from whatever ridiculous dream you're having."

"What? But I'm not-" Harry tries to say, but abruptly realizes that he _is_ dreaming. He resigns himself to dealing with real life.

Ron slaps him across the face, effectively ending the dream and making Harry see stars. "Come on," he complains, rubbing his cheek where it stings. "Was that _really_ necessary?"

"No," Ron replies simply. "You were having the dream about being the Chestnut King again, weren't you?"

"Yeah..."

"Forget it, Harry, it's never going to happen. You'll have to deal with being a regular chestnut, because that's all you're getting."

Harry sighs wistfully. "I know, but it's so nice being King. It would be nice if _someone_ recognized me."

"Oh, hey," Ron says suddenly. "You're Harry, right?"

"Shut up!"

Harry has to rely on his magic to cause him misery, since no chestnut has hands. Ron falls to the floor after having his balance upset. He gets up, wincing, and immediately starts complaining loudly. "I swear, you're too good at this magic stuff to be a real chestnut. Maybe you're, like, a mango. Or a grape. Those guys are _awesome_!"

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm just extraordinarily amazing. Or maybe you just suck. Hey, why did you wake me up anyway?"

A mildly disturbing twinkle appears in Ron's eyes. "We're playing Quidditch, of course."

He grins excitedly, and shoos Ron out of his room with a promise that they'd gather in ten minutes.

Just to spite him, Harry shows up at the old maple tree fifteen minutes later, only to find that they'd started without him, with Ginny replacing him as seeker. "Hey!" he yells, but they ignore him. No way he'll be able to join the game now. He groans and leads against the tree. Maybe if he just pretends he doesn't care, they'll beg him to join. Yeah, he'll just play it cool, and they'll come running, like usual. Just for effect, he puts on some sunglasses and chills.

_Wait a sec,_ Harry realizes. _That's my snitch they're playing with!_

Harry was only one when his parents died. He was weak for a few years after that, during which time he wasn't quite so awesome yet. Ron was the only chestnut who would stay around him at that time. Harry gave him his favorite quaffle, the one his parents had bought him as a baby. And it seemed at the time that poor, under-privileged Ron could use it better.

After thirty seconds, Harry is bored out of his mind. How could they not want him back by now? And what's he supposed to do, anyway? This is _boooooooring._ He'd rather read a _book_, and that's saying something.

Realization strikes him. He could look at the Marauder's' Map! As he grabs it from his bag that has an undetectable extension charm on it and starts looking for the Weasley Twins, something else strikes him. Sort of like a hammer, or a nutcracker. "Ow," he says dully, and everything goes black.

"Should we wake him up? It's been a while," says a voice, it sounded really mean.

"Let him wake up on his own. You hit him pretty hard with that nutcracker." A man this time, sounds like he's older.

_I knew it was a nutcracker_, Harry thinks triumphantly. He stays still, hoping to get some information from his attackers.

"But he's the chosen one! We have to find out his skill level, or the mangoes-"

He cuts her off. "You don't have to worry about them right now. He's awake anyway."

_Crap, _Harry thinks. Er, wait. He said that out loud. _CRAP._ He opens his eyes resignedly, and sees his kidnappers for the first time. Normally all chestnuts look the same, but these two looked weird. The women seemed really greasy, and feminine, and the older one had a long white strip on his front and blue eyes that twinkled. Twinkled!

"How are you feeling?" A masculine voice comes from the feminine-looking chestnut, and Harry mentally cringes. _NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE_.

"Like I got hit with a _FREAKING NUTCRACKER_," he yells. "What was that for?"

"Classified information," the old chestnut voice says. "The more important thing right now is that we get you trained, you ridiculous grape."

"Hey!" Harry yells. "If we're gonna be throwing insults around like that, then you're a _mango!_"

"Not an insult, you idiot." The greasy one says. "You're a grape."

"Am not!" Harry persists. But then he looks down at himself, and can't believe what he sees. Smooth, supple, slightly damp skin. That's dark purple. "Aw, man."

The feminine-looking-masculine-sounding chestnut nods affirmatively. "We cracked you open to reveal your true self. _You're a grape, Harry._"

"This seems really familiar. Like I read it in a book somewhere. By the way, what's all this about being the 'chosen one'? I'm not sure if I like or dislike the sound of that."

"A prophecy predicts that one day, a chestnut-grape will arise, and will defeat Moldy-Short's Death Muncher mango army single-handedly." The old man intones gravely.

"Yep. Definitely dislike it."

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**So, how'd you like it? Read and Review Please! ^,^**


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